Lived Through This
I felt nothing. So I headed to my desk for another busy day of browsing online sales and waiting to die.
I was running two hours late to work on the day I figured out I was really, truly, finally about to get fired. The whole “two hours late” thing wasn’t, like, an eerie portent of doom or anything. I had been pushing my start time back later and later for months until I was here: waking up at 9:30 for a job that started at 9, then finally swanning into the office at 11, with big black sunglasses and a giant takeout coffee, like I was a glamorous drug addict rock star instead of a writer employed to churn out articles like “If You’re Such a Big Feminist, Why Don’t You Fart in Public?” …
This Is Us
It affirmed for me that sometimes, life is scary for no good reason
There are moments in life when you wonder how you got here. You know, your classic, “This is not my beautiful house, this is not my beautiful student loan”-type early midlife business, where you’re going about your day and some small moment snags you, pulling you out of the present and into your past, leaving you wondering how you even came to be the person you are.
For me, those moments usually come when I am involved in multiple haunted necklace auctions on eBay. Or when I have to hide my book of crime scene photos because guests are coming over. Or when, in the middle of bemoaning my financial insolvency, I remember how I once paid over $200, plus train fare, to see “The Real Annabelle the Doll” (turns out she was a Raggedy Ann shoved inside an Ikea curio cabinet). …
It has recently come to my attention that I am no longer young. No one is more shocked by this information than me, as I have the energy, vibrance, unfunny ironic t-shirts, and credit score of a woman half my age. But it’s true. The changes are subtle, yet noticeable. My knees are no longer reliable on very long walks. My face appears to be slowly sliding off the front of my head, as if it were a poorly assembled layer cake. The last album I purchased on the day it was released was Hail to the Thief. …
Hello and welcome to another round-up of stories you may have missed from Atta Girl, a publication for women who did not spontaneously combust on their 30th birthdays. Bizarre, I know! But somehow, here we are, still living our lives, thinking thoughts, and coming up with dynamic skin care routines. And we’re eager to share it all with you, dear readers!
We’ve collected a few stories you might have missed over the past two weeks. If checking out these stories lights a literary fire within you, we’d love to see your writing, too. …
Hello and welcome to another round-up of stories you may have missed from Atta Girl, a publication for women over 30. We’re here! We have stuff to say! We might be slightly regretting the amount of time and energy we invested in watching The Undoing! But damn it, we’re having a good time.
We’ve collected a few stories you might have missed over the past two weeks. If checking out these stories lights a literary fire within you, we’d love to see your writing, too. Just submit a new essay to Atta Girl, or email us at attagirlmag@gmail.com.
As we move into the weird zone between Thanksgiving and New Year’s, we’d like to thank you for being a friend. You’re a pal and a confidant, and if you try to get us to join your leggings-based multi-level marketing scheme, we’ll totally pretend to consider it. Enjoy the recent work of Atta Girl writers below. …
Atta Girl Newsletter 11/19/2020
Welcome to another round-up of stories you may have missed from Atta Girl, a publication for women who have the audacity to be over 30 but still have opinions and interests (I know, I know, where do we get off?).
We know you only have so many hours in the day, so we’ve collected a few stories you might have missed from the past two weeks. And if checking out these stories lights a literary fire within you, we’d love to see your writing, too. …
I became a professional writer during a time I would refer to as the First Great Age of Blog Stunt Journalism. If you were on the internet at all between 2008 and 2015, you know of whence I speak—an era when writers were seizing the internet’s hearts and minds by simply doing dumb, gross things that other people didn’t want to do, but still wanted to read about. Like, say, eating nothing but burritos for a week. Or hanging out at TGI Friday’s for 14 hours straight. Or wearing a dinosaur tail in public. Or doing whatever happened in 95% of xoJane articles (lube? …
We’re one month into a publication for women who don’t see themselves in typical publications. Grab a seat & a ring pop, we’re so glad you’re here.
God, is there any normal, casual way to open a mass email? What is it about sending an email to a bunch of people you don’t know that just makes you start writing with tons! of! exclamation! points! Why am I trying so hard to convince you, a stranger, that I’m perky and enthusiastic? Am I trying to sell you a time-share, or convince you to join a cult, or something??
Anyway! I’m Gabrielle Moss, and along with Shani Silver, I edit Atta Girl, the publication for women in their 30s and 40s or whatever. We know you are out there living your life—participating in political actions, reading Moby Dick, impulse-buying weird cheap nail polish that you know will look bad but you just can’t stop yourself—and don’t have time to read every single article we publish every single day. So we collected a few recent ones you might have missed, written by the talented writers of Atta Girl. Want to be one of those? Just submit a new essay to Atta Girl, or email us at attagirlmag@gmail.com. …
It is a truth universally acknowledged that most Halloween playlists just totally fucking suck. That’s not me being an asshole, that’s just a fact. If you’ve ever looked for a Halloween playlist on Spotify, you know I’m right. If you’ve ever worked in a mall right around Halloween, you know I’m right. …
Sometimes, I look at myself — 38, still wearing babydoll dresses, still watching Clerks, still telling my 29-year-old friends that popular music attained perfection in 1992 with the release of Rid of Me—and I wonder: am I turning into my grandmother? A woman who wore her hair in victory rolls every single day up until her death (in 2000!) and stopped buying new clothes in 1965? Am I the woman that time forgot, doing a forgotten dance? What am I missing with all this retreat-to-the-womb-style retro behavior? …
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